


Decisions That Made My Bed

by gryffindorJ, smutty_claus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindorJ/pseuds/gryffindorJ, https://archiveofourown.org/users/smutty_claus/pseuds/smutty_claus





	Decisions That Made My Bed

**To: tha_phoenix  
From: Your Secret Santa**

>   
> **Title:** Decisions That Made My Bed  
>  **Author:** gryffindorj  
>  **Pairing:** Draco/Hermione, possible Harry/Hermione, background Ron/Hermione  
>  Summary: In the seven years since Harry delivered himself to Voldemort' Hermione's world has been rather bleak. The one bright spot has been Draco, and she would like to think if Harry would understand that. She can't say for sure, though. Harry didn't wake up from the curse Voldemort hit him with.  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Length:** 15,600  
>  **Warnings:** AU Possible major character death  
>  **Author's notes:** Thank you betas for all your help and direction. Thank you mods for keeping this great fest going. I hope you enjoy!

_Her fingertips ghost across Harry's skin. His tired and bloodshot eyes follow her every move as she touches the two holes on his forearm that are now healed and puckered with soft, pink new skin. She notices the hair on his arm around the bite has fallen out, as if burned off. She thinks about how over time the scar will fade and his hair will grow back, obscuring it; no one will know it is there. She will always know, though._

_She moves her touch to his chest, to the oval scar where she'd had to sever off the locket. It was horrible, cutting Harry like that, but the Horcrux had been sealed to his skin. He had screamed in agony. She was glad he didn't remember. That was another thing that she would never forget: his pain at her hands._

_She puts Dittany on the mark, hoping the scarring will lessen. As she does she remembers how she'd been afraid that he might die. That she would be left here, alone._

_"Harry," she says. She can feel him looking down at her. She can't look up to meet his eyes, for she won't be able to say it. "What am I supposed to do if you die?"_

_His body stiffens at the question and she summons her bravery to look up at him. He seems confused and she can tell he has never thought for one second he may die. Hermione slowly removes her hand from Harry's warm skin. Hermione is careful; touches can't linger. It would confuse ... everything._

_"I suppose it's up to you. You know everything I know. I think you're supposed to carry on."_

_Hermione closes her eyes and sighs heavily. She sits back on her heels and opens her eyes to look up at Harry, who is sitting on the bed. "I didn't mean about the Horcruxes. I meant with you. Your remains."_

_"Remains?" Harry seems like he wants to laugh at the word she used, but there is no humour for them these days._

_"Yes, you know. Your body. Do you want to be buried? Do you want to be cremated? Where do you want to be laid to rest?"_

_"I've never really thought about it," Harry says and he pulls his lower lip into his mouth and worries it as he thinks._

_Of course Harry has never thought about it. Harry never thinks about anything remotely like that. Hermione is half tempted-to leave him for the worms and crows; it would serve him right for leaving it up to her. "Do you even want a funeral?"_

_Harry makes a rather impressive wince at the suggestion, and at least there Hermione would have guessed correctly. Harry would not want any pomp and circumstance. What he doesn't understand is that it wouldn't be about honouring him, it would be about allowing others to grieve. Allowing Hermione to grieve._

_"What do you want?" Harry asks her._

_"Buried in the churchyard next to my grandparents," Hermione answers immediately. She has thought about this, several, countless, times. "I don't want a large service. There's the vicar that baptised me; it would be appropriate for him to bury me."_

_She can tell by the look on Harry's face that he's thinking about vicars and services, and really has no idea what a funeral is like, other than Dumbledore's._

_Harry reaches for his shirt and pulls it on. He runs his hand through his hair and says, in a rush as he stands, "In the churchyard by my parents. All right?"_

_He moves as if he is going to go but suddenly stops next to Hermione and puts his hand on her shoulder. She reaches up and takes it, their fingers twining together. She looks at him and he squats down beside her, his knees bumping against her side. "I'm sorry," he says. "You shouldn't--"_

_"Harry, don't apologise." Hermione tries to smile, she can feel the tears coming but doesn't want them to. Her mouth feels completely out of place as she forces herself to turn the corners up. "I asked. It's something I should know."_

_Harry presses his lips to her hand, stands, and walks out of the tent. Only then does Hermione let the tears pooling in her eyes slide down her cheeks. She did ask, but it still felt like a sharp knife in her stomach.  
_

Hermione replayed the dream in her head as she looked up at Harry and wiped her damp face. She had had the dream again last night; it was what had carried her here this morning. It was an odd dream, as it wasn't some figment of her sleeping mind but a memory from over seven years ago. The memory popped up in her dreams more and more recently. It was one of the many unexplainable things that had been happening around her and the rest of the wizarding world lately. 

Hermione stood slowly and tried to remember the exact day when it had happened. They had gone to Godric's Hollow on Christmas, that was easy enough to recall. It was after Harry had woken up but before the locket had been destroyed, but then at that point it became too blurry. She tried to put her finger on the exact day, but her head ached from crying and, perhaps, from waking so early. 

Hermione took out her handkerchief and made sure her eyes and cheeks were dry. She hated anyone knowing she had cried so much when she'd visited Harry. But she had to. It was only here with him that she could allow herself to break down. 

She knew that other people didn't see this body as Harry. They had lost hope and thought Harry would be like this for good. Some people thought that Harry had perhaps taken or been given Draught of Living Death. Hermione didn't believe it, not for one moment; he would waste away into nothing if that were the case. Even though Professor Slughorn had said there was no way to tell, she was sure that if Professor Snape had been alive he would have sided with her. 

Hermione stepped closer to the altar on which Harry and studied his face. It was the face of a man, not the boy he once was. His face had matured, his chest had broadened, and had Hermione been willing to take off his clothes she would bet there was more hair across his chest. He had aged these almost seven years just as if he had been concious. 

What Hermione feared wasn't that Harry would never wake up, or would perhaps die, but that he would wake up and his magic would be gone. She feared that was what was keeping him alive, what sustained him in this state. 

What if Harry woke up and his magic was gone, snuffed out? It was the question Hermione dreaded but couldn't help asking herself over and over. The answer was what she hated even more. If Harry's magic was gone, then it was almost better that he were, too. 

Hermione knew Harry and magic was his lifeblood. She hated to think about what she would have to do if that happened. She might have to do exactly what she had done for her parents. 

Hermione touched Harry's warm cheek and felt his breath ghost across the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," she whispered. She could not even begin to list the things she was apologising for, but she had to say the words. Harry was the only one she could tell how badly this all ached.

She took his hand. The scars across the back shone vividly in the candlelight. She looked around the room, at the grand vaulted beauty of it. It was like some great cathedral in France or Italy, with its mixture of beams and stone, soft candlelight and sunlight streaming from the high windows. It was a beautiful room. Harry would have hated it that it had been made solely for him. 

She looked back down at Harry's sleeping face and said, "I'm sorry, again." This time she knew exactly what she was apologizing for. "When you wake up, don't be angry about the room." Harry had never specified his wishes should he ever fall into a magical coma the likes of which had never been seen before, but Hermione knew that someone who wanted the simplicity of lying to rest next to his parents would never want something like this either. A grand tomb fit for a king. 

"It was the only place we could think of. McGonagall and Flitwick did it. I didn't have any say in the matter," Hermione explained for what had to be the twentieth time. She imagined Harry still glaring at her over it, being embarrassed about all the elaborate measures for his protection. "The mirror was my idea," Hermione added. If there was anyone she could sound a tiny bit boastful with, it was Harry. Well, Draco, too. Though, bragging around Draco was a matter of self-preservation, not actual pride in oneself. 

She tried to push Draco out of her thoughts; she did not like thinking about him here. He lingered, anyway. She checked her watch and thought about all the work she could get done with Draco away from the office. She kissed Harry on the cheek. "I'll be back as soon as I can." She turned and went quickly through the door. She stepped out into the deserted classroom and caught sight of herself in the mirror as she shut the door firmly behind her. 

The door vanished and Hermione stood properly in front of the Mirror of Erised. She noticed how tired she looked as she wondered if the mirror weren't charmed if seeing Harry would still be truly what she desired. To get into the room to see Harry you had to truly desire to see, but not harm, Harry. Hermione had been going into that room for so long, she had forgotten what it was like to desperately want anything else. 

Hermione did not pass a single person as she made her way out of Hogwarts; all the students were in their first classes of the day. She walked slowly, taking in the new and the old of the castle. It had taken two years to rebuild Hogwarts and it would never look the same. It was undeniably Hogwarts, though, and so it endlessly fascinated Hermione. She took solace in knowing Harry would like that this was where he was. That he was safe here, in his home. 

As Hermione descended the stairs toward the Entrance Hall, the large oak doors opened and Hagrid walked in. 

"Here ter see Harry?" he said, his entire body taking up the large doorway. 

"Just did," Hermione replied as she finished the last few steps. 

"Yer good to him. Always have been. You come here more than anyone else." 

That piqued Hermione's curiosity about who else came. She knew Ron didn't come very often. Harry's inert body made his 'stomach feel funny'. "Who else comes to see Harry?" 

"Luna, mostly. Neville. Molly tries, bless her. She ends up in floods soon after and can only stay a minute or two." _That was all?_ Hermione wondered. Hermione must have made a face because then Hagrid added, "Don't be too hard on everyone. They haven stopped fightin', you know that, yer at the meetins." 

Hermione nodded and said, "okay," but she still didn't understand what the problem was. Harry wasn't dead. 

Hagrid moved out of the way of the door and said, "I'll walk yeh ter the gate. Funny things happenin' with the magic." 

"Funny things are happening everywhere." Hermione replied. She already knew about Hogwarts. Bill had told her. "Last week there were so many people Flooing and Apparating incorrectly the Aurors launched an investigation. Two weeks ago Diagon Alley sealed itself completely for two hours."

As they stepped out in the bright morning sun Hagrid said, "Same thing happenin' here. Nothin' too dangerous. Surges in the magic and can't get doors and gates open, that's all. Comes and goes." 

Hermione didn't quite agree it wasn't dangerous. Something had to be going on. She knew that almost the entire Department of Mysteries staff had been working overtime; Bill had told her that as well. He hadn't been home to Fleur and the kids in over a week. 

Their shoes crunched in the gravel as they walked down the drive. Being out here on the grounds with Hagrid reminded her of that day, that moment: when Hagrid had come crashing through the trees with Harry's inert but very much alive body. Hagrid had taken advantage of the Death Eater melee that occurred after Voldemort fired a killing curse that left him and Harry both unconscious, and had grabbed Harry's body and run. 

As they walked up to the gate Hermione was momentarily blinded by the reflection from the bright spring sun. She squinted out past the gates down the lane to Hogsmeade and caught sight of a familiar figure standing in the shadows, smoking. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. It had been some time since she had last seen him. 

"What are ya doin', Hermione?" Hagrid said gruffly. 

"Huh?" Hermione said, shadowing her eyes with her hand to see Hagrid more clearly. 

"You don' need to be goin' around with no Malfoy 'cause of Ron." It was odd for Hagrid to bring Ron up after so long. Ron had been married for at least five years, and he hadn't been to an Order meeting or actually had anything to do with the Order in over four. 

Hermione tried to quickly deduce why Hagrid thought there was something between her and Draco, and worse, that he might think that it was something serious. This was not the first time Draco had waited on the lane to Hogsmeade for her. He knew that if he couldn't find her that this was most likely where she was. 

"I'm not doing anything with Malfoy," Hermione said and was careful to use Draco's surname to distance herself. "We work together." Hermione didn't say that Kingsley had transferred her to that department against her wishes. That it had nothing to do with the Ministry and everything to do with keeping an eye on Draco for the Order. Hagrid still wasn't good at keeping secrets. "Probably naffed I'm not at the office doing all of his work." 

"Ron isn't like you an' Harry." 

"I'm not angry with Ron. Petty school grudges will not help us win nor will they bring Harry back," Hermione said and that was the first completely true thing she had spoken since Hagrid had brought up Draco. 

"Harry's comin' back," Hagrid said. 

Hermione's heart was in her throat. Hagrid was the only person who believed that as fiercely as she did. "Yes, he is." She touched his arm, stepped through the gate, and walked down the lane. 

As she drew close to Draco, he Vanished his cigarette. He knew she hated him smoking, and she knew he only did it when something was truly distressing him. He had been away with his family on holiday so Hermione knew there was probably no end to the distressing things Draco had encountered there. 

"Jesus, Granger, you look as bad as I feel," Draco said as she stopped in front of him. 

"Is that the best greeting you have?" Hermione said with a heavy sigh. 

"Would you prefer I grabbed your arse when I said it? I would but I know how that turns you on and doing it here with that big oaf so near really doesn't do much for me. But I can overcome that if you'd like." 

Hermione stiffened and she said, "Do not insult Hagrid." 

"But you look like you're ready to hit me and you know how I feel about that." 

Hermione glared; even after all this time he still liked to try and upset her. 

Draco looked peaky; he was rubbing his fingers together as if they itched for another cigarette between them. And he only called Hermione 'Granger' when he was feeling particularly tense. The world was at war and that was stressful enough, but Draco was also in a war at home. He was supposed to be the good little successor, carrying the banner for the next generation of 'Wizarding Rights'. His father gave him indigestion and his aunt gave him nightmares, just like she did to Hermione. 

Draco would rather go away and never be heard from again. He had asked Hermione more than once to go with him. He hadn't ever done it, though, not yet. Hermione knew a week locked away in some villa with his family would nearly do him in, even with his mum there to act as a buffer. Draco, like Ron, wasn't a fighter. Hermione tried not to smile at that thought. Draco would be massively insulted if she thought he and 'Weasley' were alike in any way. 

"Was it really so bad that you had to wind me up the minute you saw me?" Hermione said, trying to lighten the mood. 

"They want me to get married. I spent the entire time trying to evade the supposed delights of this Austrian witch. Tits in my face every time I turned around. Had to lock my bloody door every night." 

"You are allowed to do what you like," Hermione said, feeling, despite herself, inadequate, especially with her chest size at the moment. She didn't think that was something anyone would ever say about her. 

"You're not jealous?" Draco said and he reached to brush a lock of hair away from Hermione's face. 

"No," Hermione said. 

"I wouldn't have said anything, but I was sure you'd drag me home in a jealous rage and ride me while you told me off for even mentioning her." Draco kissed Hermione lightly on the lips and she tried not to smile, nor kiss him back. 

"You're pathetic." 

"So you're not going to take me home and sit on my cock?" Draco said with a pout. 

"Is that the only reason you're here?" 

"It's one of the many. I have missed you, Hermione." 

At that, Hermione felt warm from the inside out. It was exactly how she felt. She had missed Draco the entire week he was gone. She had tried to tell herself it was only the physical aspects of him always being around that she needed, but she knew in her heart it wasn't true. "Are we heading to the office?" Hermione said and tried to take a step back. 

"I've a better idea," Draco said and grabbed her wrist, pulled her with him, and Disapparated. 

They landed in Hermione's bedroom. The first thing Hermione noticed was that her bed was unmade. She had left in such a hurry she was still wearing the shirt she had slept in, so she certainly hadn't bothered to make her bed. As fastidious as Draco was it was, the first thing he noticed as well. 

"Get some sleep," Draco said and turned Hermione towards the bed. 

"I really should go to the Ministry. No one has been pulling their weight and our department is a mess." 

"It's always a mess," Draco replied and Hermione scowled at him. "Except for the parts you're in charge of. You look exhausted. Sleep for an hour, I'll wake you, and then you can go to work and I won't make you leave at five." Draco unclasped Hermione's cloak and pulled it from her shoulders. 

"You never make me leave at five. You're always in my office by half-past four, complaining that we haven't left already," Hermione said as Draco Banished her cloak to the wardrobe. 

"Sure. Fine. Now goodnight," Draco said and pushed Hermione gently to the bed. 

She laid on her side and pulled the bedspread up to her chin. She watched Draco walk out of the room, and before she fell asleep, she wondered when she had allowed Draco ownership of half her bed. 

Like so many things in their relationship it was hard to pinpoint when that had happened, exactly. It was just the same as when Hermione had realised they weren't just having it off together anymore. They had been in a Muggle coffee shop in Oxford—they had to be circumspect to an extreme degree if they went out together. They never went around in the magical world in each others' company. Draco had not only ordered both his and Hermione's coffees but he had also paid for them. That wasn't the part that had made Hermione realise things had changed; it was the fact that she hadn't even tried to stop him or reached for her wallet. She'd realized that she'd become comfortable around Draco.

It wasn't long after that, that their relationship had deepened ever further. One evening after work Draco had taken her out for curry. Hermione had become paralyzed before they'd even reached the door, when she'd realized it was the exact place her father liked to go when they came to London on occasional weekends. 

She had turned and stumbled to the curb. She sat down and began to cry uncontrollably. It took her almost twenty minutes, through wracking sobs, to explain why she was such a mess. Her parents, still alive and well, had no idea who she was, and she had no idea if she would ever see them again. That was the first night Hermione took Draco home. She couldn't bear a hotel nor did she want to be alone. As they laid in her bed, with Draco holding her, she knew this was far more complicated than she'd ever thought it could be, and she also knew that she did not want to unravel the situation and get out of it. 

Draco lived apart from the war that felt like it was often consuming Hermione. They easily acted as if the mark on his arm and her blood status were not at complete odds with each other. Draco was devilishly smart, funny, worldly and thoughtful like only a man raised to be a gentleman could be. Draco had become the best part of Hermione's otherwise stark world.

***

Hermione woke to the sound of the shower running. She pulled her head out from under the covers and saw a tea tray sitting on top of the dresser. There was steam curling from the cup, and two biscuits on a plate next to it. The biscuits were chocolate and so she knew they were for her.

Hermione scooted out of bed and crossed the short distance to the cup of tea. She cradled it in her hand and took a slow sip as she turned towards the corridor leading to the bathroom. She saw Draco's trainers and discarded workout clothes sitting by the door. Hermione was unsurprised Draco had gone out running. Draco ran to relieve stress. He could run for over an hour and then come home and do all manner of sit-ups and push-ups. At first when Hermione had found out, and seen, she'd thought it was funny. Draco was so refined and put together in her mind, and while he was vain, it was a bit further than she'd pictured him taking it. Then she had remembered Draco had been quite athletic in school – he was a good Seeker, if not as good as Harry. Not that Hermione would ever say that to him. 

She also understood Draco's life better now. She knew Draco. Hermione took a sip of her tea; it was perfectly sweet without any milk. Draco knew her well, too, or at least he knew how she took her tea.

Hermione heard the shower turn off as she reached for a biscuit. She sat on the foot of her bed and dipped the biscuit in her tea before taking a bite. 

"You managed to finally wake up," Draco said when he stepped out of the bathroom and walked towards her. 

Hermione looked over her shoulder at her clock. She had slept over ninety minutes. "You were only supposed to let me sleep an hour." 

"I was still out and when I got back I decided to shower first." Draco had a towel hanging low around his hips and Hermione could see a few droplets of water he'd missed, just above his navel. In this light she could also see the thin web of scars across his smooth, firm chest. It had been a while since she had really noticed them. She remembered the first time she'd seen them. They'd made her almost sick. She had never imagined what Harry had done was as violent as it clearly had been, and it was then she'd realized the Harry she knew and the one Draco saw were two totally different people. "I promise not to tell you how late we are for work if you promise not to tell on me." He was trying to be playful but Hermione wasn't in any mood for that. She hated that he pretended not to give a shit about his job, especially since he was quite good at it.

"I never tell on you," Hermione said as she looked up at Draco. "Even when I really should."

He put his hands on his hips and looked down at her, meeting her eyes. "One of the reasons you've grown on me. You aren't nearly the do-gooder, suck-up I had always thought you were." 

"And you aren't the _complete_ arsehole I thought you were." Hermione stood from the bed and was only inches from Draco. She almost put her arms around him; she wanted his body pressed to hers.

He chortled and said, "God, I love when you're in a mood with me." 

"I'm not in a mood with you," Hermione said. "I'm late for work and you didn't wake me when you said you would." 

"I just found you sitting on the bed sipping tea and eating a biscuit. Now you're in a rush, though?" 

"Some of us take our jobs seriously," Hermione said as she pushed past him and headed to the bathroom. 

"Are you really that angry because I didn't wake you when I said I would?" Draco said. 

Hermione stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. She felt suddenly exhausted again. It had been a long morning: she had woken from that awful dream and then rushed to see Harry. Her elation at Draco's return was short-lived. She wanted him in her bed, in the shower with her, she wanted him to have woken her right when he got back from running and pressed his hot sticky skin to hers, and he had done none of that. Now it was starting to bother her that they were comfortable with each other. That he seemed to belong in her flat and she was happy about that, but still unsure. Even worse was the thought that if Hagrid thought something was going on, then so did several other people. The entire situation felt on the brink of spinning out of control. 

"No," Hermione said, answering Draco's question. "Shouldn't have gone back to bed. I need a shower, then I'll feel better." 

*

Hermione leaned over the sink, plaiting her still-damp hair to the side so it would be out of the way. She could see Draco out of the corner of her eye. He had pulled open the drawer in the dresser that was charmed to reach a drawer in his flat. He kept shirts, ties, trousers, watches, his razor -- whatever he might need while at Hermione's place. They never stayed at Draco's place. Draco flatly refused to ever take Hermione there. He said it wasn't safe. Why exactly it wasn't, Hermione didn't know. 

At first, when they were only sleeping together, Hermione had thought perhaps Draco had a girlfriend. He didn't seem like the kind of person to be alone. One day, when Hermione had realized Draco hadn't been home in three days, she hadn't thought it was a girlfriend. His parents, most likely, had showed up at his flat unannounced and he couldn't risk having her there. Hermione got the sense that Lucius, if not Bellatrix, didn't exactly trust Draco. They probably searched his flat on a regular basis and he knew it, so he couldn't have any trace of Hermione there. Once when Hermione had brought it up again, Draco had simply told her he liked it here better. 

Hermione stood straight and smoothed a loose curl behind her ear. She wasn't dressed yet, was only in her underwear. Though her bra and knickers were both practical in color -- tan -- they did match. All of her underwear was a matched set now. She knew Draco liked that. He had made a comment once, well over a year ago, and that had been it for Hermione. 

She scowled at herself in the mirror. She hated feeling like a trained monkey to Draco's desires and wishes. But she wanted him to desire her and wanted to please him in that way. 

Draco closed the drawer and slid a tie under his shirt collar as he walked towards her. As he drew closer she could smell his after-shave and pomade. He had parted his hair to the side and combed it back, the way he always wore it for the office. He slid his hand across her thigh and arse as he passed her and made an approving noise in the back of his throat. 

"Did you always like matching knickers? Did Pansy wear them for you?" Hermione said to him. 

Draco wrinkled his brow. He carefully said, "Are you jealous of Parkinson?" 

"Do I have a reason to be?" Hermione replied. 

"I'm not sure. Do you expect me to get upset about Krum or Weasley?"

"Viktor and Ron aren't a part of this conversation." 

"Viktor," Draco said with a chortle. "So the rumours were true." Hermione narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. Draco smirked and said, "I only figured it was fair to bring them up as I can't recall being with Parkinson much past sixth year, and her knickers aren't exactly what I remember about those times." 

"You think about when you were with her then?" 

Draco stepped behind Hermione, put his head right next to hers, and met her eyes in the mirror. "Jesus, Hermione, why are you on my arse today?" Hermione huffed with derision as Draco slid one hand down her back and the other around her waist, and pulled her close against him. 

"I am not on your arse today," Hermione said, mocking Draco's tone back to him. 

"You haven't let up since the moment I saw you. I half expect you to pull out a strap-on and tell me you're going to fuck me the way you liked to be fucked." Draco pressed his hips against her; she could feel his cock, through his trousers, pressed just above her arse. "It's been a while since we've done that. I remember how you like it." Draco moved his hand across her arse as he whispered to her. 

Hermione studied his eyes in the mirror. They twinkled with a hint of amusement. "You know me so well. I would not go out and buy ... one of those." Hermione could not even say the word and she felt herself blush at the thought. She hated herself for blushing; she was no innocent and there was no way Draco would let her discomfort go. 

"Yes, you would," Draco said. "You try to feign innocence, but I know you. You were the one who wanted me in your arse, you tell me to come on your face, you like when I do you from behind and pull your hair. The power of throwing me on the bed and fucking me, you'd like that too. I'd like that. It's practically like when you lock the door of my office and ride me in my chair." 

"This is the second time today you've brought up me riding you," Hermione said in a tone, trying to take control of the conversation. 

"You're a clever girl, I was hoping you'd get the hint." 

"Talking about someone else 'tits' isn't the way to get it." 

Draco smirked again and Hermione was half tempted to turn around and smack him. "It's not Pansy you're in a twist about. It's that I was gone and I couldn't miss you because I had enormous tits to keep me company. God, sometimes you really have it all wrong. I came back to see you. I not only locked my door every night to keep her out, but also so I wouldn't be interrupted when I thought about you. Didn't need my parents walking in on me wanking. That's a humiliation best left for when I was fourteen." Draco rocked his hips against Hermione again. He was rock-hard and Hermione pushed back against him. She wanted him to pull her knickers to the side and unzip his trousers so he could do her here, against the counter. It reminded her of when they had still been going at it every chance they got. It was after the hotel bills had got so outrageous that, for the first time in his life, Draco had taken to working late. They would wait till the office was deserted and then have a test of wills to see who would end up knocking on whose door first. Draco'd had her over his desk so many times that Hermione still couldn't walk into his office without at least a faint blush. He brushed his lips against her neck and said, "Take me to the bed and sit on me." 

Hermione felt herself smile. Being taken here and now was all very well and good but it was nice to have the option of a bed. Draco pushed his hand down the waist of her knickers and brushed his thumb against her clit. She pushed into his touch and said, "I thought we were going to the bed." 

"Figured I should take the edge off first. You'll fuck me so hard that I'll come in a minute." Draco kissed a path from her neck to her shoulder. 

"You like being fucked hard," Hermione said as she moved her legs apart, giving Draco more access to her. 

"Jesus Christ. You're so wet, though, you need this first," Draco said as he stroked two fingers against her. Hermione stopped arguing and relaxed into him. She did need this. 

He wrapped his other arm around her, holding her tight. She could feel him all the way down her body, from the press of his shirt buttons against her back to the brush of his trousers against her bare legs. 

Draco moved his thumb in small, firm circles. Her eyes fluttered closed and she rolled her hips into his touch. 

"Open your eyes," he said. Hermione did and watched as he pushed her knickers to the side and pushed two fingers into her. She moaned and bucked her hips. "Fuck, you feel good," Draco said, and he moved his fingers back and forth inside her and stroked her clit. "Can't wait till my cock's in you." Draco thrust sharply again and Hermione had to put her hands flat to the counter to keep herself steady. 

Hermione felt herself getting close; she pushed against Draco, urging him on. She wanted him to rub his fingers against her hard and fast. He continued in slow, maddening circles until Hermione felt her entire body tense and finally release. She cried out as she came. She could feel herself pulsing around Draco's fingers. 

He took his fingers out of her and brought his hand to his mouth. He sucked his two fingers then said, "God, I want to eat you." 

Hermione turned in the little space she had and swiftly undid Draco's trousers. "Not before you fuck me." 

Draco pulled Hermione in for a kiss. His lips were soft and hot against Hermione's. He pushed his tongue into her mouth as he quickly removed his trousers and pants. Hermione reached down and wrapped her hand around Draco's cock. The stiffness felt good against her palm. She stroked him slowly, pulled back the foreskin, and circled her thumb on the damp tip. 

Draco thrust into her hand and then grabbed her and pushed her towards the bed. He pulled his shirt off and crawled on the bed before her. Hermione kneeled on the bed and straddled his hips. "You're beautiful," Draco said and reached up and tenderly touched Hermione's face. 

"You're only saying that because I'm about to ride you," she said, trying to dismiss the comment and the earnest tone. 

"That certainly doesn't hurt. You know I mean it, though." He reached up and pulled Hermione down for another penetrating kiss. 

Hermione sat up and felt as if her emotions were clearly written on her face. She felt beautiful with Draco: she felt herself, perfect and whole. She knew how she saw Draco, too. Better than she had ever imagined anyone could be, let alone him. Didn't matter if they were fucking – though she hated cheapening it with that word – or passing each other in the corridor. That wonderful feeling that made her chest ache was always there. 

She reached behind her and straightened his cock, then slowly lowered herself onto it. Her flesh was tender from coming already and she let out a small sound as his long, thick cock stretched her. Draco gripped Hermione's thighs and thrust up into her. 

"God, yes," Draco said and thrust again. Hermione pushed down on him as he pulled back. She liked feeling him deep inside her. 

She began rolling her hips, riding him with smooth equal movements. Draco pulled her bra down. Hermione reached behind her and undid it with a flick and threw it aside. 

Draco cupped her breasts in his hands, rubbing her nipples with his thumbs. The touch sent waves of pleasure through Hermione. 

"Can't believe you were worried for one second that you thought I'd prefer any other tits to yours," Draco said. Hermione tried not to laugh at him. Draco had the tendency to say too much and not realize it was better to leave the argument they'd had behind them. 

"Mine aren't huge," Hermione said. 

"Hers were beyond big. Didn't matter, she was awful all together. No one is you. Or your fantastic rack." He smirked as he said the last bit and Hermione pushed down on him hard. "Christ, stop. You'll make me come." 

"Good," Hermione said and pushed hard on him again. Draco dropped his hands back to her thighs and held her down as he thrust sharply. 

"Are you going to come again with my cock in you?" Draco said as he inched a hand towards the middle of her legs. 

"Why don't you touch me and find out?" Hermione said, wanting Draco's fingers on her again.

He pushed his fingers to her clit and pinched one of her nipples with his other hand. "Fuck me," Draco said. "Make me come." 

Hermione rocked faster, pulses of pleasure coming from Draco worrying her nipple and the heat growing inside her as he played with her clit. 

"Oh! Fuck! God!" Draco cried out as he stiffened and she felt his cock begin to pulse in her. He pressed his thumb against her clit. Hermione pushed and rocked faster and she felt the waves of pleasure wash over her as she rode herself and Draco to completion. 

Hermione slid down to Draco's side. Draco held her close as she vaguely thought they were never going to make it to work today even though it wasn't even ten yet. 

"I wanted you the moment I saw you at the gates. And when I brought you home. Then when I got back from my run, and after my shower." 

"It isn't like you to wait so long," Hermione said as she trailed her fingers down his stomach and circled them in the blond downy hairs surrounding his navel. 

"I had to get that entire bloody holiday out of my head before I did anything else." 

Hermione's brow wrinkled and she said, "That awful?" 

"It's hard for me to feel good after spending a week with them piling so much shit on me. I don't want to be thinking of those things when I'm here." 

Draco was never specific but Hermione knew how it was for him. This wasn't the first time he had said this sort of thing about his family to her. 

"Glad you're all sorted now," Hermione said, brushing a kiss against his bare shoulder. 

"Glad you're sorted too. Merlin, you were in a twist with me." 

"Was not." 

"Sure, right. I was on eggshells and now that I've made you come, twice, you can act normal." Hermione felt his cheek plump with a smile. 

"You're so full of yourself." Hermione pulled Draco closer and lifted her head to kiss him on the cheek this time. She looked down at him: messy hair, pink cheeks and a small smile. He was quite adorable like this. 

Hermione put her head back down and enjoyed the quiet respite as Draco traced small circles on her hip with his fingers. 

"I won't go the Manor anymore, so they guilt me into going off to Switzerland with them. Which turns out to be an elaborate ploy to get me interested in this girl," Draco said some minutes later, pulling Hermione from her ruminations.

There was so much Draco had said that Hermione wanted to know more about, but she started with the first thing he'd said. She propped herself up on her elbow. "You don't go home anymore?" 

"The Manor? No, haven't been there in, hell, I don't know." Draco raised himself on his elbows and pouted as he thought. "At least two years, I think." 

"That was before anything happened with us. I thought you went there on weekends or meetings." Hermione did not drop her gaze to the faded mark on Draco's forearm. Pointing out he was a Death Eater, even with a glance, never went over well. 

"I don't go there. That madman is in there. I told you that. They keep his body there." Draco shivered convulsively. "My aunt pining over him, making sure he's still breathing. Now all the magic surrounding the Manor is going mad."

"Going mad how?" Hermione said. 

"You know," Draco said and looked at her. "Same shit happening everywhere." 

"Do you think that means something?" Hermione asked. They hadn't talked about it other than as regarded their department. It was their problem if wizards couldn't get goods in or out of the country. Or worse, all barriers would break down and then wizards would be able to get anything they wanted into the country. Hermione hated her department, the International Trading Standards Body. All the rules and regulations, yes, she was good with them, but she missed the theory and study of the Department of Mysteries. 

"I don't know what it means. Rumour is He's coming back, both of them." Draco hardly ever called Harry, or rather Potter, by name. "Mother said it was all a load of rubbish. She said this is the world and that I'd better get used to it. I should start by finding a wife." 

They had circled back to the starting point, pressure on Draco to get married. Hermione had to tread lightly; she didn't want this discussion to lead to any thing about their situation. "What did you tell your parents?" she asked carefully. 

"Told them I would get married when I was bloody well ready to and maybe not even then. They didn't take that well. Father and I had a row." 

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. She couldn't imagine fighting with her parents. Then again, she probably would choose fighting with them over anything, if it just meant seeing them again. 

"Don't be sorry." Draco sat up. "Malfoy fights are dull affairs. Father gets drunk and starts with the insults. Mother pretends not to notice. I finally say something back and then we use a few choice words with each other. Mother steps in the moment one of raises our voices above a normal volume and that's where it ends. We fight more in backhanded ways. Father forcing that girl on me, me casually mentioning all the sex I have with various women of indiscriminate background. How I've probably fathered children but can't be bothered to find out. Jesus, Hermione!" Draco smirked. "Don't look at me like that. I said it to wind my father up, not because it's true."

"The part about an indiscriminate background is. They'd hardly approve of me," Hermione said, and it hurt to know that. The Weasleys had always liked her. Draco, despite everything, still loved and cared about his parents and she wondered if their disapproval ever bothered him . "You should be careful. Your family isn't stupid." 

"Don't worry about them. My parents don't know me or what's going on. They thought I would like a busty Austrian girl. They are hardly experts on me or my taste." Draco reached out and pulled Hermione to him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "My only interest is this silly Muggle-born who always has to be right. If that weren't enough, her hair is even more mad than she is." He smoothed down her hair with both hands. 

Hermione closed her eyes and whispered, "Don't." 

"Don't what? If I'm going to be forced into marriage, it will at least be with someone I know I can get it up for." 

"We ... this is ..." Hermione was finding it hard to think of the right words. She didn't want to hurt Draco, she cared for their relationship. But talking about them being any more than what they were was completely absurd. Hermione pulled away. "I really do need to go to work." 

"That's it? I mention something more serious than a shag, and you have to go to work. We are way beyond that and you know it. We've been beyond that for a long time." 

"I know that," Hermione said, feeling herself snap. "Don't you think I know what's between us? Don't you think I get it? But what the hell are we going to do about it, Draco?" 

She sensed Draco bristling at her tone. He said, "We could leave, you know that. But you won't." 

"Won't? Can't. I can't go. I have to keep fighting, I have to see this through to the end," Hermione said, feeling the desperation in her voice. 

"Right, I know. He means more to you than anything else. You say you know what's between us, but I don't think you have one bloody clue that a fucking ghost is keeping us apart. Now excuse me, I'm late for work." 

Hermione sat down on the bed as Draco stormed out. She refused to believe it was the spectre of Harry that kept her from living her life. Harry wasn't dead. He was coming back.

***

For years Hermione had felt like Harry was the only thing that tied her to her life. She was battle-weary and ached for a life lived the way she wanted, and Harry, or rather the thought of him, was what kept her going through the drudgery of it all. She didn't want a life that was secretive and a constant game of chess. She missed Harry, the one person from whom she had no secrets.

As she watched Draco bargain with, outsmart, and flatter a room full of Chinese businessmen interested in importing a line of dress-up dolls made especially for young witches, she wondered how Harry would feel about the tides shifting so much in Hermione's life that this smarmy bastard had become the other anchor in her world. 

For as long as she could remember, her feelings and his feelings about Malfoy had been more or less the same. Now that they were older, if Harry were around, Hermione was sure he would see Draco as better than he had been at fourteen.

"Ms. Granger," Draco said with a nod towards Hermione, "has prepared a scale for prices and taxes on each item. As you know, the taxes on toys are different according to how many charms are put on said toys." As Draco waved his wand for the prepared report to appear in front of each meeting attendant, he glanced quickly at Hermione. His face was a mask of cool business ease but for a split second Hermione caught the secret message in Draco's eyes: the one that told Hermione that they were the best bloody team in the department and the Ministry did not pay them enough for all their brilliance. Hermione had heard him say it enough that she knew the look in his eyes that went along with it. 

For a moment Hermione had the traitorous thought that she didn't give one damned Knut what Harry thought about Draco; all that mattered was what she thought. Hermione quickly looked down at the report, already so familiar with it that she could recite its contents in their entirety in her sleep. She actually might have done just that. Draco said when she was overly stressed she tended to talk in her sleep about work. 

Hermione wondered if she had been talking in her sleep over the past week. The Ministry was in constant chaos. Magic was going haywire all around the country and at alarming rate. The Death Eaters had taken this as some sort of boon and their activity had spiked as well. Added to all that, Hermione couldn't even ask Draco if she had been talking in her sleep; he hadn't come over since their argument. 

Hermione knew it was because he was angry and upset about the perceived millstone in their relationship, not because he had been participating in any subversive activities. 

It was Hermione's job within the Order to keep an eye on Draco. It was the reason Kingsley had taken her out of her beloved Department of Mysteries and put her in International Trading Standards. Despite her misgivings at being a 'glorified babysitter,' she had done her job and listened and watched Draco closely. He wasn't the Draco of their youth, nor was he even the scared boy Harry had seen face Dumbledore. If anything, he reminded Hermione of Zabini, who she had worked with for a few months as an Unspeakable. He didn't give a shit as long as he survived. 

Hermione had got into a relationship with Draco knowing that his feelings about the war were indifferent for the most part, so she didn't find it as monumentally disappointing as she was sure Lucius did. 

Hermione looked over at Draco, and could tell by the cadence of his words that the deal was almost closed. She couldn't understand a thing he was saying; she didn't speak more than a word or two of Chinese. She was used to not understanding Draco in meetings, though. While she spoke French, it was halting and rough. Draco spoke as well as any Frenchman. His Italian and Spanish were equally as lyrical. 

Hermione had hated him for his language prowess until she realized she could work on the hard facts, numbers-crunching part of their job, and Draco could do all the talking. If Draco was good at anything it was that. 

Everyone stood and shook hands as the meeting ended. Hermione was glad to see that not only did Draco look happy but the businessmen did as well. Draco more often than not used charm to get their way, but he had been known to threaten and insult to gain ground. Hermione hated those sorts of meetings the most. She would keep her hand on her wand the whole time. 

Draco clapped one of the businessmen on the back as they walked to the door. Before stepping out into the corridor he looked over his shoulder at Hermione, staring with an open leer. His gaze traveled from her face down her neck to the top buttons of her robe and blouse, which she had undone, then down further past her hips and back up again. He smirked at her in way that claimed he had touched every inch of her body. She felt her face flush with embarrassment, and she glared back at him. 

His expression changed to a cool smile that said 'I'm still angry with you', and he walked out of the room. 

Hermione waited a moment so she could get Draco alone in his office; she needed to talk to him. She didn't want him to be upset with her. She didn't want their relationship to dissolve back into what it had been initially; them sleeping together causing her to feel stupid and guilty while he would look at her with smug self-satisfaction. 

Hermione was glad the corridor was empty. They had worked together long enough that no one would be suspicious if they were seen going into one another's offices, but it was always best to be safe.

She stepped to Draco's door and hesitated a moment before knocking, thinking about what he had said to her after the very first time they had slept together. She remembered exactly, word for word. 

She had been in a panic, trying to find all her clothes, the ones that had been carelessly strewn around Draco's hotel room. He'd sat up in bed and said with his patent drawl, "Jesus, Granger. Relax."

"What?" she had snapped, looking up at him. 

"I always figured you were uptight because Weasley and Potter never fucked you properly. I know I did. I reckon no one's ever made you scream like that." She had punched him in the arm for that, she still hadn't found her wand at that point, and he'd pulled her back into the bed. 

Hermione didn't want Draco to be sarcastic with her at every turn. She knocked, but was terrified she would encounter that sarcasm on the other side of the door. 

Draco said, "Come in," and Hermione pushed open the door. 

He was undoing his robes and loosening his tie. "I have forty minutes before I'm expected anywhere and I want a nap so be quick about it." He placed his robes and tie over the back of a chair and flopped down on the sofa. He put his head on a pillow and his feet up. 

"You'll sleep better if you take your shoes off," Hermione said grabbing his foot. 

"Is that why you came in here?" Draco laced his fingers together and rested his hands on his stomach. 

"No. I wanted to know if you had plans tonight. The weather is nice and we can eat outside and pretend we're in Paris until it starts raining." Hermione gave Draco a small smile as he gave her a flat look. 

"Only if I get my nap in. I haven't been sleeping well." 

"Six too early for you?" Hermione said as she reached for the door. 

Draco snorted and said, "You're leaving before it's dark?" 

"Only for you," Hermione said as she opened the door and stepped back into the corridor. 

As she turned to close it she saw Draco toeing off his shoes. He said, "I'll meet you at your flat."

***

Hermione stuffed a few files in her bag as she rushed to leave the office. It was only a little before five but she wanted to get home and shower before Draco came over. She didn't want to be tired and inkstained when he arrived.

"You busy?" 

Hermione looked up and saw Bill standing in her doorway. 

"No, come in," Hermione said. 

"I'm meeting my uncle for a drink. He's in town from Reading. Want to join us?" 

Hermione nodded and threw her bag over her shoulder. She did her best to keep from looking worried as she and Bill walked out together. Bill had replied by giving her an Order code phrase, which had immediately set Hermione on edge. Admittedly, there were no degrees of seriousness in the code phrases, they just existed. All the phrases sounded boring but detailed enough that one knew when one heard it. Bill had said uncle, which was the first hint; it was always a male relative. Then he'd said drink, not pint, and he'd used the name of the town Hermione was from, which was the last clue. 

Whatever was going on it was serious enough that they needed to be outside the Ministry. In the years since there'd been an open war, the Ministry had become the main battleground. Different departments in the Ministry had become the pieces on the chess board. The Order had The Minister's office, with Sturges Podmore. They also had the Aurors, with Kingsley. Despite the positions, Hermione did think that it was Kingsley actually in charge of the whole thing. He had been able to dissolve The Muggle-Born Registration Commission and take back department after department. They had been unsuccessful in taking back The Floo and Portkey Departments, and had only succeeded last year in getting back Apparation. Wizarding travel had been considered dangerous by most and having a Floo connection was unthinkable. 

The Order was currently in power at the Ministry by over ten departments and all but a few key ones, but people were still scared, so the war was far from over. As long as Voldemort was breathing, and Hermione had been told by Draco that he was, then people would never feel comfortable, Hermione included. 

Hermione's department was considered without alliance. They dealt with other countries, and other countries, fearing retribution, were afraid to make open alliances with one side or another. Hermione thought that had their lives been the ones in immediate danger, they wouldn't be as cowardly and would pick a side.

As Hermione stepped outside with Bill she noticed that she was right; it was a very fine day. She then remembered she was supposed to meet Draco and hoped whatever this was wouldn't take long. 

Bill jerked his head toward an alleyway, and Hermione followed him. Once out of sight of the general public they Vanished their robes and then stepped back out onto the street wearing normal Muggle clothes. Hermione noted, with some humour, that while she tended to wear business attire as most wizards did, Bill was wearing jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt.

They walked down the street in silence. Bill didn't bother making idle chatter, ever. Hermione had always liked that about him. Bill had often become her partner when it came to anything with the war. After Ron had decided he was done, Hermione thought there needed to be someone else in on their mission. It was Bill whom she had finally confided in. It was Bill who'd ended up traveling through South America and Africa to find another Parselmouth. While Charlie was the one who'd successfully taken the Sword of Gryffindor out of Malfoy Manor, it was Bill, with the help of the Parselmouth, who had killed Nagini. 

Hermione looked over at Bill and the way the light played across the scars on his face, highlighting some and causing others to look shadowed. Bill was tough and reliable, and there probably weren't many people left whom Hermione trusted as much. 

They turned and stepped into a park. Bill led the way to a small hill overlooking a pitch where some teenagers were playing football. He took a seat and Hermione sat down next to him. She looked all around at all the people on blankets, enjoying the beautiful sunshine. A shadow crossed her line of vision and she looked up to see Kingsley walking towards them. 

He took a seat next to Bill without even looking at Hermione. Hermione was amazed at how seamlessly Kingsley could fit into the Muggle world. It wasn't easy for a tall, good-looking and obviously powerful man to go unnoticed, but he somehow managed it on occasion. His forehead was damp with sweat, he wore a t-shirt and shorts, and he was carrying a cricket bat in his hand. Right now, on this day, Hermione wouldn't have looked at him twice. 

"You tell her, Weasley?" Kingsley said, and for a heart-stopping moment Hermione thought they were here about Draco. That they knew something and he'd been arrested. But she trusted him so that couldn't be. It must be about Harry. 

"I was waiting for you," Bill said as he stretched out his legs and leaned back on his hands. 

"All the privacy charms are in place, go ahead." 

Hermione picked nervously at the grass. She twisted one rubbery stalk between her thumb and forefinger as she looked cautiously at Bill. 

"You know about the magic of numbers, yeah?" Bill said. 

"I know about truth based in magic of certain numbers. Voldemort believed seven was extremely powerful." 

"Right. Exactly. There were pharaohs who would put their faith in certain numbers. Voldemort was not the first man to try and live forever. There was a pharaoh who believed in the number nine, because of nine's ability to always return back to itself. You take any product of nine and add the numbers back to themselves and you get nine. He tried to create nine pieces of himself. Somewhere along the way he changed his mind. I can't exactly figure out why, but that's not important. He figured that it would take a year for each part to come back to him. It's complicated, but it has to do with Ra and his worship of that particular deity." 

"Did it work?"

Bill shrugged. "According to the pharaoh, after the proper amount of time, he felt whole. But what's more important is that the last year leading up to the eventual end there were great waves and changes in magic in the world. Or as we've been calling it this year, a surge. Didn't matter about Ra. What mattered was the path of the Earth around the sun. Sort of like gravity's long, slow work of bringing a soul back." 

Hermione sat there, silent. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had looked for years, for ways Harry could come back. She had studied everything and she'd never seen this. Granted, Bill knew a lot more about Egypt than she ever would. 

"There's been a prophecy." Hermione's head snapped up and she looked over at Kingsley. He met her eyes and continued. "He's coming back, Hermione. Seven years." 

"But Voldemort's soul was in eight pieces," Hermione said automatically. 

"He's coming back, too," Kingsley replied. 

Hermione felt stunned and giddy at the same time. This was it. It was going to be over. Harry would come back and he would end it. He would kill Voldemort. Hermione's mind raced with everything she had to do. She had to tell Draco first. Then Harry – she had to go, she had to be there when Harry awoke. He would be expecting her. 

"We need you to get the names of every known Death Eater from Draco. We need you to find out if they already know. We have reasons to believe the Department of Mysteries isn't safe." 

Hermione scoffed. "I've told you at least five times. There isn't a single bit of information from Draco that you wouldn't already know. They don't trust him. He's indifferent to the entire situation." 

"You know this for sure?" Kingsley said slowly, and arched his brow. 

"Absolutely." 

"You've every reason to trust him, and probably even more reasons to protect him." 

Hermione kept her cool and did not look at Bill. Bill would tell Molly, who would tell Ron, and Ron would never, ever understand. "I'm not sure what you mean." Hermione looked down and swirled her fingers through the grass. She was not the best liar. 

"I have not been Head Auror for so long because I'm easy to fool," Kingsley said. 

Hermione looked over to Bill, who was reclining back and squinting up at the sun as if he spent every afternoon hearing about whom Hermione slept with and therefore couldn't care less. 

Hermione looked at Kingsley and said, "Be that as it may. It isn't leverage to blackmail him." 

"Why would you waste your time with him, then?" 

Hermione knew the question was more of a rhetorical one that didn't require her answer. She looked at Kingsley and was half-tempted to blame the entire situation on him. He had taken her out of the Department of Mysteries, he had made her work with Draco, and if the result was this, then it was all his fault. Hermione tried not to feel like a pawn, tried not to think that Kingsley was probably secretly happy she had lured Draco to her bed. Hermione wondered if Kingsley ever thought for a moment that it wasn't all a set-up to Hermione and that she actually cared for Draco. Probably not. He wouldn't ask her to get information from Draco if he knew that. Or maybe he would. 

Hermione looked over at Bill, who was then looking at her. His face was blank, with no judgment, no questions in his expression. Just his scarred but still handsome face studying her. That made Hermione feel better. Bill knew what it was like for everyone around you to not approve of the person you were with. 

Hermione stood and brushed grass from the back of her skirt. "I have to go," she said. 

Her back was to them before Kingsley spoke to her again. "You've a week before it's over." 

She looked over her shoulder and down at Kingsley. "Thank you. I remember when Harry left better than anyone."

***

Hermione dropped her bag with a _thunk_ the moment she walked through the door. She could see the light spilling out of her bedroom down the corridor. She looked at her watch. Draco was early.

She walked slowly down towards her room; her insides turned. On her walk home she had started to doubt whether Draco had any involvement in the war. Kingsley knew volumes of things that she didn’t, and Draco was clever. Maybe he had been hiding from her all along. 

She stepped into her bedroom and her gaze fell on Draco. He was reading one of the Muggle papers Hermione took. He folded it and put it aside as he said, "Good, you're here. I saw you leaving and I was worried that you'd foolishly changed your mind and you did prefer a Weasley to me." 

Hermione laughed lightly with relief. Draco's smug snark was like a warm blanket to her. He stood and she rushed to him. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. Draco hugged her hack and said, "I know, those gingers can frighten me, too." 

Hermione laughed again and tears started to fill her eyes. Draco had showered and changed; his shirt was soft and freshly laundered. Hermione smiled. She'd always had an affinity for the soap Draco's laundry service used. The scent of his aftershave and soap surrounded her. His warm body pressed firmly to her. It was the perfect comfort. She had no reason to doubt Draco. She knew him better than anyone and just looking at him and being with him, she knew that. She would not insult him, nor their relationship, by asking him questions he had no hope of answering. 

"I have to tell you something," Hermione said. She looked up at Draco and his brow wrinkled with concern. "No, it's good. Great. All this magic going haywire, it means something. Harry's coming back. It will be over." 

Draco's entire demeanor shifted. Hermione didn't have to see his face to tell – she could feel it. He put his hands to her shoulders and pushed her away. He looked at her and said, "It's true then?" 

"What's true?" 

"The Dark Lord. He's coming back as well." 

"Yes, him too. You knew about this?" Hermione asked. 

Draco dropped his hands from Hermione, then rubbed his temples and squeezed his eyes closed. "Of course I knew. I heard that a bit ago. I thought it was more drivel or rumours that have flown around. My aunt always has some idea how he will come back. Now she's right. Though Blaise did tell us--" 

"Blaise told us?" Hermione said, stepping on what Draco was going to say next. Her thought process was struggling to keep up with her emotions. She felt angry and hurt that Draco hadn't told her anything, not even hinted, and that he possibly knew more than she did. It would be easy for Blaise in that department to find out. He might have even worked with Bill. Hermione hadn't even know that Draco was in regular contact with Blaise. 

"Right. He doesn't care, but someone does pay him if he has any information. Hermione, we have to leave," Draco said, and his eyes flew open. His eyes looked manic, almost like a cornered animal's. "If he's coming back, and it's real this time, we have to go. I am not waiting around to see how things go." He reached for Hermione's hand and she pulled away, repulsed. 

"You knew this. For how long exactly? What else do you know? I thought you didn't give a shit. You told me so, hundreds of times. " 

A coldness flashed in Draco's eyes and he said, "What else do you think I know?" 

"I don't know," Hermione said and she turned around and started pacing, the heels of her shoes catching in the rug with each turn. "I didn't think ... I was sure you were..." 

"Sure I didn't care? I don't. I care about staying alive, and that is why we have to leave." There was an urgency and a finality in his tone that told Hermione he was quite serious about leaving, in a way that he had never been. Still, she ignored it. 

Hermione stopped and looked at him. "Why didn't you tell me? If you don't care, why didn't you share something with me?" 

"Yes, because you make a habit of sharing all your Order dealings with me." 

He had a point, but Hermione was still angry. "Are you hiding anything from me?" 

"Only as much as you hide from me." 

Hermione wanted to punch him. She wanted to drag her fingernails across his face and wipe away that haughty expression. 

But she didn't move. She slowly said to him, "I didn't want to put you in a dangerous situation." 

"Bullshit. You don't trust me," Draco replied, his voice rising a little. He stood still as he spoke, with his hands on his hips. When Hermione was upset she had to move, it helped her think. Draco always stood solid, as if he were a block of ice. 

"That is not true. You know I trust you. For God's sake we sleep in the same bed every bleeding night!" Hermione gestured to the bed. She could see a book Draco was reading on one of the bedside tables, and a box of tissues. He had allergies that made his nose run every morning. 

"If you trust me, then leave with me," Draco said, and he took one step towards Hermione. 

"I can't leave, Draco. It's all going to be over. The war is going to end and then we can move on," Hermione replied. She pictured a world without having to hide, without sneaking around. Actually going into public with Draco, without thinking twice. 

"What if he wins?" Draco raised his brows with the question.

"He won't," Hermione said fiercely. 

"You don't know that," Draco replied rapidly.

"Harry will–" 

Draco barked a laugh then said, "Yes, of course, Potter. Potter is going to defeat the greatest wizard that ever was." 

"He is. We, he and I, we did everything. Voldemort won't win." 

"It's astonishing to me you have complete trust in Potter, a person who's been dead for over six years, and yet you come home and question me. I have been at your side and shared your fucking life but your faith in him is flawless." 

Draco spoke quietly but forcefully through clenched teeth, so Hermione answered him with determination. "He's my friend, Draco. We fought together. He will end this and I will be there." 

"Why? So then you can fall in his arms? Run off with him?" 

"No, it isn't like that. It's you." Hermione was angry. She was tired of telling Draco that again and again. What did she have to do to prove she wanted him? 

"Then if I mean so much to you, leave with me. I can keep you safe. I can build a life with you. We can go find your parents." Her parents. Hermione felt like she had been pierced with a knife, and she knew that was Draco's intent. "You know what it's like with him, that man. We have to leave before he comes back." 

"You go, Draco," Hermione said, her voice quivering as she tried not to cry. "You leave and..." Hermione couldn't say 'if Harry dies' even though that was what she was thinking, "...if he wins then I will come find you." 

"I thought about leaving. Up and leaving you, this, everything. I knew I would always be your second choice. I didn't want to have you in the aftermath of Potter dying. I wanted a fair fight for you and me. But I couldn't ever do it. I'm scared that if I leave, then I'll be nothing but a bad dream to you. That if I left, then you would think I was a coward. That bastard took my home, he took my parents, he took everything and I am not going to fucking sit here and wait for him to take you. He has taken everything I love and it won't happen again." Draco was yelling now. Hermione could probably count on one hand how many times she had heard him yell. 

"Then fight, Draco. Fight with me. If I mean so much to you, then fight." 

"The war is not about us. It's between everyone else. We can choose not to be a part of it."

Draco stepped to Hermione again and put his hands on her upper arms. He looked her in the eyes, and she could see that he was hurting. He was scared and sad, and yet Hermione kept refusing him and breaking his heart. "Hermione, please," he whispered. 

Hermione couldn't answer him and look at him at the same time. She looked down and felt ashamed that she was acting thus when he had been so brave. "I can't." 

Draco cupped her cheeks in his hands and lifted her face to look at him. "Please," he said again. He kissed her fully on the lips. Hermione felt herself warm with his touch. "Please, Granger. I don't make a habit of begging for anything so you know what this means to me." 

"Draco," Hermione said and she felt her heart shattering in a million pieces as she looked at him. She could not give him the only thing he had ever asked of her. Draco grabbed her again and kissed her. She pulled him in closer, and opened her mouth and slid her tongue against his. He pressed his chest firmly against hers. He slid his hands down her neck, her shoulder, and the sides of her breasts. He lowered his hands to her skirt and pulled it up. 

He pushed her on the bed and got on his knees. Hermione ran her fingers through his hair; she had always liked how the soft tendrils felt between her fingers. He pulled her knickers aside as she laid back. He licked her slowly and tenderly, and fucked her with his tongue and two fingers as he brought her off.

He pulled off his clothes as Hermione removed hers as well. He knelt on the mattress and crawled just above her. She wanted to say something as they looked at each other, but there was nothing left that needed to be said. 

She let herself go and fully drifted away as he moved his hands and mouth across her body. He sucked on her nipples, nibbled along the bones of her hips, flicked his tongue across her cunt once more. Hermione felt her thighs shaking and she spread her legs wider, wanting his mouth on her again. 

Instead he sat up on his knees and stroked his cock as he looked down at her. Hermione felt like she could break under such a look. 

She reached for him. She wanted him in her mouth. She wanted him to lose control and cry out her name the way he did every time she sucked him. She wanted to feel her lips wrapped around his big cock as he spilled himself down her throat. 

Draco pushed her hand away and reached for the backs of her thighs. He pulled her close and lifted her hips and then slowly pushed into her. 

He lay his long body on her and fucked her slowly. She dug her fingernails into his back, urging him to move faster, harder. She tried to touch herself so she could climax again, but he pushed her hands away every time. He kissed her neck and shoulder as he thrust over and over again, and whispered unintelligible words against her skin. 

Hermione arched against him and wrapped her legs around his hips and held tight to his arms, finally relenting and letting him take her where he wanted to go. The weight of his body on her aroused her in a way she'd never imagined. She wondered if Draco knew she liked it this way. Probably; he knew everything about her body and what she liked. 

Draco's pace became quicker and he reached between them and brushed his thumb against her clit. He held tight to her with his other hand, pushing her over and over again onto his cock. She came again from his touch, and as she did, Draco stilled and she felt his cock pulse in her as he filled her. He cried out and sank his teeth into her skin as if he didn't want her to hear his pleasure. 

They laid in the bed, silently facing each other. Draco idly played with Hermione's hair, twirling individual curls around his index finger and then letting them spring back into place. Later, much later, he would tell her that he was trying to memorize everything about her, right down to the Devil's Snare that she claimed was her hair. Eventually Hermione got up and went to the loo. When she returned every trace of Draco was gone. Even the charm on her dresser drawer was no longer in place.

Hermione felt lost. She laid down on the bed and wrapped herself around a pillow. She could still smell his hair on her hand, his cologne on the pillows, and feel his warmth in the bed.

***

Hermione expected to see Draco at work the next day but he wasn't there, nor was he there the next day. On the third day Hermione asked and all she got was an indifferent answer.

He had left like he said he would. Hermione didn't think him a coward, as he had feared. The only person she was angry with was herself. That's she'd been unwilling to take the leap and go with him. Sure, Bill had said Harry was coming back and the world did seem to be hurtling towards some breaking point, but what if they were wrong? What if the breaking point was Harry finally dying? The only thing she was grateful for was that she was able to tell Kingsley that Draco couldn't give her information because he was gone. When she told him that, his brows shot up but all he said in his slow, deep voice was, "All right." 

As Hermione climbed the steps to her flat on the third day, she had the immediate sense that someone was inside. She took the steps more quickly, sure that Draco had come back. 

She pushed open her door but her flat as completely dark. As she closed and locked the door behind her, and dropped her bag, a lamp clicked on. "Amusing, these Muggle lamps. They're almost too bright." The person sitting in the chair was tall and fair like Draco, and he spoke in that drawling way Draco could, but it wasn't Draco. Hermione felt her heart stop for a moment as she looked at Lucius Malfoy for the first time in over seven years. He looked better than he had the last time she'd seen him. No longer pathetic and desperate.

Hermione didn't reply but reached into her pocket and gripped her wand tightly. 

Lucius took out his wand and twirled it through his fingers as he looked Hermione up and down. After a long silence he spoke again. "My son can be secretive, but a parent always knows what is truly going on. I had told myself it was a married woman Draco was keeping company with. Probably did that to blind myself from the filthy truth." Lucius' lip curled with the words and Hermione felt her anger surge. "I should consider myself lucky that you two have been smart enough not to produce any children." 

"And what if we had?" Hermione replied. 

Lucius shrugged elegantly and said, "That would be a matter that is better considered once faced with it. Now, enough of this pointless conversation. Where is my son?" 

"I don't know," Hermione said, and for the first time, she was happy that Draco had left without a trace. She didn't know if Lucius had the ability to perceive her thoughts, but she looked him straight in the eye just to be sure he knew she wasn't afraid. 

Lucius stood and Hermione noted the differences in Lucius' and Draco's builds. She would have thought they were exactly the same, but she could tell that Draco was taller by at least two inches and must have been willowy like his mother. Lucius' chest and arms were thicker than Draco's. But their faces, and especially their eyes – they were similar. Draco could carry a coldness in his eyes, but he did not look at her with the contempt that Lucius subjected her to now. "Ms. Granger. Let us not play games with each other. You know where my son is and you will tell me." 

In a flash Hermione could see where this was going. She remembered Malfoy Manor well; she remembered Bellatrix with her wand in one hand and a knife in the other. Hermione gripped her wand more tightly, and without another word, she Disapparated. 

When she landed in the Shrieking Shack, she crumpled to the floor shaking and crying. Her parents, Harry, Draco, and now her home. All gone.

***

_She's touching Harry's skin again. Checking his wounds, as always. There's nothing she needs to do, though. All the scars are knitted as cleanly as they can be. Dark magic always leaves an ugly mark._

_She looks at Harry's face. They are sitting side by side this time. He looks older. He's not a boy anymore, he is a man with an angular face and a dark shadow of stubble._

_"When this is over you'll be glad that you finally have to stop taking care of me," Harry says with a forced smile._

_Hermione blanches and says, "I don't think you're a burden."_

_Harry laughs and takes her hand. He twines their fingers together and Hermione thinks how Draco never holds her hand like that because she doesn't like it._

_"You borrowed time for me, more than once, you know? The wedding, the Ministry, Nagini. I reckon there are thousands of times that I haven't even realized yet."_

_Hermione scoffs. "I borrowed nothing. You're supposed to be here. It's not done for you yet."_

_"It's not?" Harry says._

_"No!" Hermione shouts and pulls her hand way. She stands and looks down at him, pointing in his face. "It's not the end. You aren't dead. You won't die. Jesus Christ! You aren't allowed to decide you're done fighting! Everyone else is still fighting so you can't decide not to!"_

_Harry's nostrils flare in that way they do right before he explodes, and he jumps to his feet, so close to Hermione he almost bumps her. "It's my bloody life. I will decide whether or not it's done!"_

_"Fine! You do that! You always do what you want, anyway, and you never think about me! You may not care if you die but I do."_

_"Me dying isn't about you!" Harry shouts back._

_Hermione is ready to yell back, ready to scream at Harry until he stops being such a stubborn bastard. But she doesn't. There is no winning when Harry is convinced he's right. Hermione turns to walk out of the tent._

_"Where are you going?" Harry demands._

_Hermione turns and says, "I'll be waiting outside until you get your head out of your arse." Hermione drops the tent flap behind her and sits down on a rock and waits._

 

The evening before Harry came back Hermione slowly made her way through the castle to the room. The castle was quiet, almost deserted. McGonagall had sent everyone home days ago. A few teachers remained but Hermione was able to stay hidden from them. Years of sneaking around the castle had paid off. It was certainly too dangerous for Hermione to return to her flat, and so it was equally dangerous to have contact with anyone. The war had become very personal. Draco's family had never wanted her in what they thought was their world, but now that they knew, it could only be much worse. 

Hermione stopped at a window that faced out towards the lane leading to Hogsmeade, hoping she would see someone there, waiting. There wasn't, just as there hadn't been all the other times Hermione had looked. No one could get into the castle; the walls and gates had sealed themselves. She had gone through the passageway leading from the Shrieking Shack, and as far as she knew it still worked, but no one had come out that way after her. 

She looked one last time down at the lane, which was lush and green with all the spring blossoms. But it was pointless; she hadn't seen anyone in days. She knew the Order must be surrounding Malfoy Manor, waiting for Voldemort. Their war was him and her war had always been Harry. She suppressed her anger at them with her pride. She knew Harry was the only one who could truly end it all. 

Hermione entered the room and looked into the mirror. She imagined the door, wanted to get into the room, but nothing happened. She could have been looking into any other ordinary looking-glass. The room, Harry's tomb, had sealed itself. Hermione had thought that might happen, so she Transfigured a large squashy chair and sat down in it. She wrapped herself in the robes she had nicked from the laundry and pulled out a book she had taken from the library. 

She didn't know exactly what time Harry had gone away, only that it was some time in the very early morning. But she had waited seven years, so a few more hours wouldn't hurt. 

As darkness fell Hermione conjured a lamp, but her eyes soon grew heavy. She hadn't been sleeping well. She had terrible dreams every time she did. She dreamt about Draco, usually, that she couldn't find him. She would wake with a terrible ache in her chest and a loneliness that would consume her so completely that she couldn't fall back asleep again. 

She also dreamt about Harry. They were always in that stupid tent and they were always fighting. As she rested her head on the arm of the chair she really hoped she didn't dream about Harry now. Fighting with him was the worst.

Hermione woke feeling sick. The dream about Harry still felt real. She blinked and looked out the window. The sky was beginning to lighten. She rubbed her eyes and told herself the dream wasn't real. She looked at the mirror and willed Harry to come out at that moment, but he didn't. 

Annoyed, Hermione jumped to her feet and walked around the room. She kept an eye on the window, and the light seemed to be getting brighter more quickly than she wanted it to. She looked at her watch, and there was still no Harry. She tried and failed to remember the exact time Hagrid had brought Harry out of the Forbidden Forest, but surely it was past that point now.

Hermione looked at the mirror as if it were personally betraying her. She wanted to break it. She took out her wand and took a step towards the unyielding glass. As she raised her wand, ready to cast a spell – no particular one in mind, the first one that came to her lips would do – the door behind her burst open. 

She turned and Draco stopped dead at the entrance to the room. He was dressed in a way Hermione had never seen. He was in all black, including a long, black robe with a hood. He wore black leather gloves, and in one hand he held his wand and in his other he had a mask. His face was very pale and he had a deep gash across his right cheek. His hair was tousled and brushed against his forehead. 

She quickly realized why he was dressed that way and she had never in her life felt so much like a complete fool. 

"Jesus! You're not dead," Draco said as he strode across the room. He reached her and pulled her into his arms. He squeezed her so tightly she could hardly breathe. His voice was muffled as he spoke to her, and his face was buried in her hair. "Went to your flat and your bag was there and nothing. No one's heard from you. Not even Shacklebolt or that Weasley knew anything." 

"Kingsley?" Hermione said, trying to piece together why Draco was talking to Kingsley but still dressed as a Death Eater. 

"Yes. I saw him right after I couldn't find you." Draco stood back but pressed his fists against Hermione's shoulders. "I saw him just now. The Dark Lord's back. I went when I was called. Then I left and told them, the Order, his plan. We came here and I thought about you and how no one was going to tell Potter, so I came straight here."

"You came here for Harry?" Hermione said in shock. 

"I thought you were dead! I was only doing what you would have done."

"Did he," Hermione touched the wound across Draco's face. "Did he hurt you?" 

"That's from that mad tree," Draco said. "You told me about the tunnel but I didn't know how to stop the branches." 

"I told you about the knot on the base," Hermione said. 

"No, you didn't. Now, where's Potter? The Dark Lord is on his way. I'm surprised the castle's still standing. He wants this over." 

"Harry's not back yet. What if he's ..." Hermione couldn't say the obvious and Draco pulled her back against him. 

"He seems to think Potter should be here, too," Draco said. "Maybe he's stuck in the room." 

"He can't be. The room is easy to get out of," Hermione said. She knew that for a fact better than anyone. 

"Leave it to Potter not to recognize the obvious," Draco said. 

"I know how to open a door, Malfoy." 

Hermione and Draco both jumped and turned. They saw Harry closing the door to his tomb behind him, just before it disappeared. 

"Harry," Hermione said. He didn't look wasted or weak. He looked strong and tall, and determination shone in his eyes. Hermione ran to him and practically knocked him over with a hug.

They squeezed one another tightly, and as they finally separated, Harry said, "Should I be worried Malfoy is here?" Hermione turned and looked at Draco. He was standing solid as a rock and his face was an impenetrable mask. 

"No," Hermione said. 

"The Dark Lord is on his way here, Potter. He's coming through Hogsmeade," Draco said. 

Harry gave a curt nod and walked to the door. Hermione swiftly followed but stopped at the threshold and looked at Draco. He was still standing as if frozen. 

"Let's go," Hermione said. She felt giddy with excitement. Harry was here and Draco had made his decision in his own time. She hadn't known until now that it did matter to her that he should pick a side. "It's over. Let's go finish it." 

"You still want me to go with you?" 

Hermione went back and grabbed Draco's hand, letting the mask clatter to the ground. "It sounds to me like you made a choice, and now we're in this together." 

"What if that's it for me? What if I don't want to fight?" Draco said, his body stiff and unmoving. 

Hermione looked up into his eyes and said, "Then I'll be back for you when it's over."

Draco didn't smile but his expression softened. Hermione pulled him from the room and they were soon running though the castle, hand in hand, robes streaming out behind them as they hurried to catch Harry. 

The front doors were opened and as they hurtled out of them and down the steps, they could see Harry walking to the gates. Down the lane, Hermione saw Voldemort with all his followers around him. 

Hermione could see rows of people flanking the drive, as if creating an aisle for Harry. There were so many that they were spilling onto the lawns. She could see that Kingsley, Luna, Flitwick, McGonagall, Neville, Hannah, Hagrid and all the Weasleys had come, as well as people she hadn't seen in years and that she didn't know still believed. 

Every eye was on Harry as he opened the gates and met Voldemort in the last open battle. Draco gripped her hand tightly as the spells began to fire.


End file.
